Thirteen Degrees of Separation
by Miiko Ashida
Summary: Things are all coming together, but not necessarily in a good way. Roxas wishes he didn't know all these people, Axel wants the voices to stop telling him to break small children's crayons, and Luxord just wants to have a normal day for once. [AU]
1. Providence

Chapter One: Providence

Author's Note: This is something of my attempt at a humorous but ultimately plotful AU. Plotful is not something I often attempt...nor is humor. Um...there aren't any particular pairings in this (not planned, at least), but it's never a good sign when two characters whom I fancy together meet within the first chapter. Oh, and Axel fans: I'm not cutting him out at all. He's coming soon! Fate just intends a more, uh, 'meaningful' meeting between him and Roxas...yeah, that's it. Heh.

* * *

"Roxas, honey, did you make sure to check your tires for a flat?"

"Yes, mom," the boy replied dutifully, snatching a granola bar off the counter and stuffing it in his pocket.

"Do you have all your school things?"

"Yes, mom."

"You aren't wearing those pants, are you? They're five sizes too big!"

"_Yes_, mom, I am."

"Well, be _careful_!" his mother shouted, blowing him a kiss as he barreled out the door, backpack slamming against the doorframe and screen door. She sighed; her son was a walking accident. Letting him ride his _brand new_ bike to school on the first day was probably not the best of ideas, but he'd gotten it for his birthday and waited all summer to show it to his friends today; how could she deny him if he was so excited?

With a fond smile, she hoped he'd remembered his helmet.

--

The day started badly for Luxord.

He woke to shouting outside his apartment, as apparently the girl next door was having one of her legendary fights with the landlord. This was a good thirty minutes before his alarm was set to go off, but he couldn't get to sleep, instead sitting in his dingy kitchen playing solitaire until seven o'clock rolled around.

In the shower, he found out (with a loud, dismayed cry) that the hot water wasn't working – _again_. He vowed to speak with the building janitor about that; it was the third time this week. This meant he had to microwave his coffee (he usually used hot water from the faucet, a coffeemaker being beyond his expenses), which was then foul and tasteless. And it burned him, so he jumped, shouting, and spilled it all over himself. Another ten minutes was wasted changing, and when he had finished the phone rang. He was harassed by 'a friend of an acquaintance whose patience was growing short' for what seemed like an eternity, before the line went dead and he moved, grouchy, into the kitchen.

A glance at the clock showed that he was fifteen minutes late (how had that happened?), so he ended up running down the stairs, coffee-less, tired, cranky, and rushed.

As he reached his car, he was almost surprised it hadn't been hijacked in the night or had its windows bashed in or the tires slit or _something_, just to put a perfect cap on his morning. He said a silent word of thanks to no one and patted the dashboard with vague fondness.

What Luxord did not know was that the vehicle was required to play a much more important role in ruining his day than a few dents or delays.

--

Roxas sped happily, helmet-less, along the highway. Though it was against the law to ride on the sidewalk, he decided to play it safe (for his mother's sake) because of the lack of head-protection.

Still, he felt like a rebel; he'd gotten away with wearing the pants she'd deemed unsafe; he _hadn't_, in fact, checked either tire; and he had forsaken the childhood restraint of a helmet, spiked blonde hair rippling in the wind. A certain _somebody_ would definitely be impressed, with the bike and his new style. He'd show her, calling him a momma's boy. Ha!

He grinned to himself, weaving a bit and feeling the on-a-dime turn radius of his new bike. Today was going to be the Best Day of his life. He could feel it.

--

Deciding he shouldn't be driving without _some_ sort of stimulant, Luxord pulled in to a roadside coffee hut and ordered an espresso, double shot. The girl handed him his change and drink cheerfully, wishing him a good day, and he muttered under his breath, "Maybe for you."

He joined the flow of traffic on the freeway, juggling the coffee cup which was burning his palm and the steering wheel, and took a sip.

It was good juice, the stuff from that place. He sighed a little, not at all refreshed but enjoying the taste and thinking maybe he'd been given good luck by the cashier girl's sunny attitude.

--

"Hey, Roxas! Roxas!"

A car horn honked and Roxas glanced up from the sidewalk to see Olette, his friend who'd called him a "momma's boy", passing him in her boyfriend's SUV. She waved frantically as he began to be left behind, and he tried to return the gesture. "See you at school!" he called, but it was lost in the roar of traffic.

They were off the freeway by now, heading down a more residential street toward the school, so Roxas wasn't too worried when the handlebars swerved with only one hand steering them. He grinned, until he felt the front tire give way and slip off the curb, into the street.

_Shit_.

--

"Damnit!" hissed Luxord as the coffee escaped his grip and exploded all over his lap. He glanced down, wiping at the soggy mess of his slacks, and mentally kissed goodbye to any prospect of a good day.

In that single moment of distraction, several things happened.

-

Roxas wrestled the handlebars, cursing a blue string that would have peeled paint or made his mother stuff his mouth with enough soap to poison a person, as his bike swerved out of the bike lane.

Into traffic.

_Holy shit_, he thought before a car slammed into him and he didn't think much else.

-

Luxord felt himself jolted forward as he looked up in time to slam on the breaks. A biker had just shot out in front of him, out of the blue.

"Holy mother of –!" he began, throwing open the door and rushing around to the front of the car.

"Ow, shit, fucking shit, motherfucker…" said the biker.

Luxord's first thought was, _Thank God, he's alive!_

His second was, _What a dirty mouth._

"Are you okay?" asked Luxord, kneeling next to his victim, who was, on second glance, a kid.

"You _hit_ me, you bastard! What do _you_ think?" he snapped, holding his side.

"Here," Luxord said shakily, helping the boy to stand. "I'll drive you to the hospital. Oh, God…"

There wasn't any blood anywhere, so Roxas was feeling alright (with the exception of the stabbing pain in his ribcage)…until he looked over and saw the real carnage.

Still disoriented from his momentary unconsciousness, it didn't really settle in what the sight was, at first. Then it struck him: yellow and black, metal and rubber. "Roxas" printed in now-scratched, silver letters. Twisted and lumpy.

"Oh, holy _fuck_, my _bike_!" shrieked Roxas, trying to break away from Luxord's grasp to run to his prize possession, which was now a very sad pile of spokes and bent steel on the sidewalk. _Whoa, he really hit me – it flew a long way!_

"Don't, you'll hurt yourself more," Luxord urged. "I'll pay for your bike. Just let me take you to the hospital."

"No way, man! Look at – shit, just _look_ at it!"

Luxord would rather not. It looked like it was worth more than a year's worth of rent on his apartment. "You need a doctor," he said firmly, quelling the hysteria that was screaming inside of him, _Oh-God-I-hit-a-kid-oh-God-oh-God-oh-my-fucking-God-mother-of-sweet-holy-fucking-shit-I-hit-a-kid!_ Roxas limply gave up resistance and allowed himself to be ushered into the front passenger seat, still holding his side.

On the driver's side, Luxord climbed in, took a shaky breath, and sped off in what he hoped was the direction of the hospital.


	2. Omens

Chapter Two: Omens

Author's note: Ooh, scary chapter title! Hehe. Actually, it's really nothing so ominous. Just some more of angry!spazz!Roxas, and Luxord worrying. And an obligatory appearance by…well, we'll see, won't we? Hospitals are excellent places for Meetings Of Fate. And finding a boyfriend. And many other things. Anyway, I mean not to bore you all! Read on! (Oh, and points for anyone who finds and gets the nineties pop culture reference!)

* * *

Anxiety chewed Luxord's gut as he broke two speed limits and about thirty traffic laws in his race to the hospital. The kid wasn't moaning in pain (in fact, all the noise he'd made was cursing so far, not even his name) or fainted from blood loss (because there wasn't any blood) or screaming and writhing against his seatbelt. He just sort of sat there, for all appearances…sulking. Still, what if it was a slow-bleeding internal injury? What if the boy was dying a quiet, painless death and was suddenly going to keel over?

_Maybe I should talk to keep him coherent_, thought Luxord, hands leaving permanent indentations on the steering wheel. "So, ah…." Brilliant. The boy said nothing. Maybe he was already gone! Oh, shit. "What's your...name?" Yes. Name. That thing you call people so you can tell your insurance company exactly who it was that you mowed down while having your eyes off the road and hands in your lap. Well, not in those last few words exactly, because it sounded like something it wasn't, but the point was he was about to be a lot poorer via a spike in his rates.

"…Roxas."

Luxord winced. Venom seeped from the boy – _Roxas'_ voice. Was it appropriate to turn on music? The silence was heavily uncomfortable, in that 'I am so pissed that if you say something I will jump upon and strangle you, but if you do not speak I might lapse into a coma' way. Unfortunately (or perhaps not so much), this was an unfamiliar kind of uncomfortable silence, not at all like 'you just slept with my little brother!' or 'I am upset because you let my cat die of starvation when I specifically asked you to feed her while I was gone' or even that awkward moment of 'my mom died in a freak liposuction accident' after a "your mom" joke, and so Luxord had no real idea how to deal with it.

He reached for the music dial. Bad choice; the car was flooded with a blast of angry, metal rock music. _Who_ had he loaned the car out to, again? He turned the dial frantically, until a symphony's strains floated out soothingly. The volume was down, everything was good.

"Your tastes _suck_," observed the – Roxas, acerbically.

"What?" Luxord was given a start by the voluntary speech from the pissed off teen.

"Never mind."

Apparently he had mistaken it for civility. Damn.

So he compromised by turning off the radio altogether, and they rode in silence toward the hospital. They had gone the right direction after all, because the large red cross atop an ugly cement roof enclosure was coming into view above the trees. Luxord sped up a bit more.

--

They went in the exit-only lane, just narrowly avoiding a collision with an outgoing ambulance, and Roxas demanded to get out and walk.

"It's safer than being in here with you!" he argued. Luxord locked the doors in rejoinder, and the boy contented himself to fume quietly in his seat. _He's probably kidnapping me, and we're only here so one of his psycho nurse friends can pass him some sort of tranquilizer so I can't scream when he drags me out into the bushes and –_ The rational part of Roxas' mind interrupted him with a rather loud, derisive snort. _Stupid_, it said. _What has he done, aside from run you over, which was an accident, to show any intention of harming you? Most drivers would tear off and leave you there so you couldn't get a license number! _He's_ driving you to the hospital, where you can wreck his insurance, press charges, and more importantly _get treated_, you spaz. _There was an almost-audible (within the confines of Roxas' mind, at least) "Gawd", valley girl-style, following that diatribe. Roxas found himself bristling but vaguely unsettled that his subconscious was so girly.

Perhaps because he was preoccupied with the fact that he had just nearly killed a very hostile teenager in his just-washed car, or perhaps because the short dialogue had taken place _inside Roxas' head_ and was therefore kept mostly to himself, Luxord seemed wholly unaware that the two parts of said hostile teenager's psyche were socking it out over whether he was a child molester or a decent guy who took his eyes off the road. In his ignorance, he began, "So, Roxas…were you going to school?"

"How do you know what school I go to? Are you stalking me? Jesus, let me out of the car!"

Roxas had begun clawing at the window, and Luxord was worried he might deal irreparable harm to himself – or, more importantly, the upholstery. In what he hoped was a calming manner, he reached out a hand (and nearly lost it for his trouble; Roxas slapped and scratched him in his sudden panic) and placed it on the boy's arm. "Roxas. I am _not_ stalking you. I merely supposed, because it is the right time of morning and you appear to be the right age, that you were walking to a school. You are not in any danger; we are in the middle of a hospital parking lot. You're _safe_, all right?" It was hard to say all this calmly, when Roxas' peaking anxiety was feeding Luxord's, but he managed.

Something about his voice settled the panic in Roxas' mind, so unthreatening, almost _familiar_. With a defeated sigh, Roxas drooped back against the seat. Why did this man have so much power over him? They'd never met before, and the guy had _run him over_, yet Roxas' gut instincts (also known as his Subconscious, which was doing a victory dance somewhere above his left ear and giving him a migraine) trusted him implicitly and forced Roxas to do the same. "Fine. Whatever. You win." He stuck out his lip. "You can let go now, you know."

All of a sudden Luxord had the urge to laugh and ruffle his hair. The kid was so _cute_ when he pouted! Of course, he restrained himself, eyeing the puffy scratches on his hand. Which he still hadn't taken off of Roxas' arm. Oh. Right. No wonder. With a soft, sheepish cough, Luxord removed his hand and placed it back on the steering wheel. This was too weird. He absolutely _hated_ physical contact, for one. Secondly, Roxas had just tried to maul him. Not thinking too much into it, he slipped the car into a parking space which had been vacated sometime while Roxas was having his freak-out moment. "Well…Roxas. Let me help you get out."

"I'm fine," Roxas growled, his heart completely not in it.

Luxord came around and opened the door anyway.

"Hey…mister. You never told me your name."

Oh, yeah. That was true. With a half-smile, he said, "I'm Luxord."

"Do I _know_ you?" Roxas asked skeptically, scrutinizing at the older man's face. "You sure you aren't stalking me?"

"Positive," affirmed Luxord, and this time he did laugh. For a moment their eyes met, and Roxas felt strangely dizzy. He began to slump forward, body making no attempt to recover its balance; Luxord reached out, shaking off the feeling that someone had just walked over his grave, and gripped Roxas' arm. A shock darted between them, and Roxas flinched, suddenly wide awake again.

"Ow, man! What the hell!"

"Did you feel that, just now – not the shock, something…else?" It was something he didn't admit to often, but Luxord was extremely superstitious. Both of them suddenly feeling so strange was…a sign, of something. He wasn't sure what, but it wasn't normal.

With a pinched expression, Roxas shot him down. "Feel _what_? Maybe you forgot, but you hit me with your car, so I might be a bit dizzy. I'm probably concussed," he added in a mumble.

"Then let's get you inside," sighed Luxord, feeling that Roxas wasn't being straight with him – and if he was, it was almost worse.

--

"Polney, Joseph," announced a bored-sounding orderly, eyes fixed on his clipboard.

A man in a construction worker's uniform got up, gripping his hand and grimacing. Blood showed around the edges of his fingers. Roxas glanced away, trying not to turn his torso; the pain in his ribs had gotten worse when he walked from the car to the ER waiting area. To amuse himself while he waited for his own name to be called, he surveyed the faces of the other patients. There were little kids who looked sort of sick, old people, a bunch of guys in wifebeaters with spiked, dyed hair. This last group caught his eye, and he looked over their faces, a mottled mess of piercings, tattoos and a couple bruises. _Gangfight?_ he guessed by some of their leather clothing and other appearances._ Yuck_, put in his Subconscious, a distinctively snotty tone in its voice. _Talk about 'those boys your parents warned you about'._ Hackles raised, Roxas geared up to reply, 'My parents warned me about _girls_, you moron', but it died a half-born thought as his gaze fell onto one of the gang members.

He stood out, even among those people. His hair was bright, fire-engine red, spiked up so that it flared out like a lion's mane – or a fox who had been sprayed by a skunk, rolled in tomato sauce to kill the stench, fed C4 explosives and then dropped from fifty feet up. Ignoring the rather imaginative imagery filling his mind, Roxas was caught on the man's face. He had the brightest green eyes Roxas had ever seen; they almost glowed in the light, even from across the room. But it wasn't this, or even the feminine, pointed-but-soft good looks the man possessed, that made Roxas' breath catch and his heart stop beating temporarily.

Something had clicked inside him, and Roxas felt that dizzy sensation, accompanied by a tingling rush of blood to his head.

_Your brain has blown a circuit and will be back online momentarily,_ his brain informed him cheerfully.

_This guy is major Hot Stuff, and I'm not sure why but if you don't go over there and make nice with him RIGHT NOW you are going to seriously regret it for the rest of your karmic reincarnation cycle,_ added Subconscious. _In other words, go fluff your hair in the bathroom and then flirt like you've never flirted before, kid. Forget the possible spleen damage Peroxide Head gave you and work on filling every gap there might ever be in your future life with just one conversation._

Subconscious had apparently drawn Brain into its evil schemes, but left Nervous System out of the loop. Roxas remained frozen, staring at the redheaded man, his eyes, his crazy hair, his strange face makeup, his tiny eyebrow stud, his tight leather clothing. Tight leather clothing. Tight. Leather. Clothing. Well. Roxas felt particular clothing articles of his own tighten as he skimmed his eyes over the man's torso, then down to his hips and legs. Dude, that guy had the craziest lady-hips Roxas had ever seen! Roxas gulped. _I'm checking out some guy in the middle of the ER waiting room, where I am because I got hit by some random guy who gives me the same dizzy feeling _(_but not the tingly-thing_, his Subconscious felt compelled to point out) _and he is probably here because he was involved in some gang shooting. And now my brain is telling me to go hit on him. And the worst thing is, I'd actually love to, but I can't move._ Mentally, Roxas smacked himself around for admitting that, just as the orderly came in and called another name in the same bored tone of voice.

"Pullman, Axel."

The man stood up, stiffly, a hand clamped over his arm, and followed the orderly. Roxas watched him go, slightly dazed. Axel. Axel Pullman.

_Who exactly _was_ that guy?

* * *

_

Author's Addendum: Hah! You all TOALLY didn't see that coming! …Oh, wait, you mean you did? Damn. Anyway, this wasn't too actionful, mainly just mild plot and character exposition, but bear with it! Um, I do have a plan. For the weird tingly thing. And yes, Axel is TOTALLY in a biker gang! Buwahahahaha! …I really enjoyed naming Roxas Various Psychological and Biological Components. Way too much. Tee hee!


	3. Advent

Chapter Three: Advent

Author's Note: Ah, _this_ chapter. I am so, so very keen on it. It's got an inkling of plot, reveals some important clues, and introduces the framework characters. Oh, joy! (Plus, we find out that Roxas _isn't_ going to kick it! Yeah! He'll pull through, Doctor!) Erm…no fun pop trivia in this one, though. Sorry, heh. But there is a lot of mystery to make up for the somewhat absent humor! So worry not. Oh, and yes I know that it takes a really, painfully long time to get anywhere in the ER process (having just recently suffered through same, myself), but I sped it up for the story's purposes. They've got them some fast doctors, man! ;P

* * *

Roxas watched the redheaded man – Axel – leave, his mind screaming at him in what seemed like a foreign language. Garbled advice drifted through his consciousness, words like "Go after him!" and "Don't just sit there, stupid!" Dumbly, Roxas sat, unfazed by the coordinated efforts of his psyche and brain. 

And then the leather-clad, strange-looking man was gone. For some reason he didn't understand, Roxas almost felt like crying. _What the hell?_ he thought, scrubbing at his eyes. Luxord was about to say something, when another orderly appeared.

In the same deadpan, monotone voice as the one before him, he called, "Wanless, Roxas."

Distracted from his momentary, inexplicable heartbreak, Roxas stood, cradling his ribs gently. Luxord stood, following behind him nervously. Maybe he was afraid Roxas was going to have another dizzy spell. Maybe he thought Roxas was liable to spontaneously combust. Both were possible, neither likely, and the truth was, Luxord was still just internal-monologueing that _Oh-God-oh-God-oh-God-I-just-hit-a-kid-oh-shit_ bit.

"Nature of the injury?" asked the orderly in a bored tone.

"Car accident," supplied Luxord quickly. Roxas wondered if perhaps he had prior experience with running kids over and taking them to the hospital after.

"Are you his father?"

"No…I, ah…" A brilliant flush lit Luxord's tan face.

"He ran me over!" interjected Roxas. The orderly looked up, his attention finally gotten, and stared.

"Ran you…over?"

"Yes! Can we just get this over with so I can get some painkillers?" The ache was making Roxas more irritable, coupled with the man's uncaring attitude.

"Er…right. Well, go in and have a seat in there," he pointed with the hand holding his pen to a small cubicle containing a bed, closed off by curtains surrounding it. "The doctor will be with you shortly."

Groaning, Roxas made a show of limping past the man and laid himself gingerly on the bed.

"Should I leave, or do you need to get my insurance information…?" questioned Luxord, a frown creasing his brow.

"Um…actually, could you stay with me?" Roxas interrupted by calling from behind the curtains. The orderly shrugged.

"If it's okay with the kid, I guess not." He scuttled off to make the next call.

Inside the cubicle, Luxord sat carefully on an unoccupied patch of Roxas' bed. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. Raising just his head, Roxas leveled him with a Look. People did not generally argue with what Roxas said after giving the Look, except his mother, because she had a better Look – and the threat of Grounded For Life, which trumped pretty much whatever Roxas came up with.

"I don't really _want_ you here," Roxas told him flatly, just to make sure they were clear and on the same page. "Hospitals just…creep me out. I didn't want to be alone, even if it's you."

Luxord smiled. "You wouldn't happen to be scared of those strange men in the waiting room, would you?" he asked jokingly. Roxas bristled.

"Of course not! What would give you that stupid impression?"

"You were watching them pretty closely," observed the blonde man casually, leaning back.

This reminded Roxas of Axel, which made him sad again. He began to chew his lip, wondering what the feeling was all about. _You're acting like a lovestruck girl_, he told himself angrily. _You don't even know the guy! What's he got to do with you? He's probably a creep anyway._ Of course, Subconscious had something to add to that, too, but the doctor came in before it could be shared.

"Roxas Wanless?" she smiled warmly. Roxas nodded. "I'm Doctor Gordon. And you are…?" The smile faltered a little as she regarded Luxord. Her eye, keener than the orderly's, discerned that they weren't related.

"I was the driver involved in the accident," he volunteered before Roxas could say anything.

"Well." Luxord felt little icicles impale him all over, thrown by the sudden shift in the temperature of her smile, but when she turned back to Roxas her face was kind again. "Where does it hurt? You were able to walk here, I presume?"

"Yeah. Just my ribs. It feels like he sledgehammered me."

Luxord flinched. This was going to be really, _really_ awkward, he thought as the doctor fixed him with another testicle-shriveling glare.

--

In the end, Roxas turned out only to have a cracked rib. It would bruise, and hurt for a while, but nothing serious. Luxord couldn't remember feeling more relieved, except maybe that time when he got locked out of the men's room in college, right after a Sprite chugging contest, and the janitor came along with keys just as he thought he was about to – but that was another story altogether. Roxas was still pretty pissed, but the mild painkillers with which he was presented seemed to help some. The lady doctor had actually been fairly civil with Luxord, grilling him for his insurance details but suggesting to Roxas that he not press charges for something so minor.

Deciding Luxord had probably suffered enough with all the anxiety and offering to pay for the bike and the insurance thing, Roxas went with her advice. In his relief, Luxord offered to drive him back to the school; Roxas was about to accept when he saw a bright shock of red hair emerge from another curtained-off cubicle down the hall from them.

The noise the redhead was emitting was actually more of an indicator of his presence than the hair, but Roxas recognized the latter better. Or would have, if he'd had room in his own head to think. _Go up and talk to him, quick!_ shouted his Brain, relying on Instincts for support. _Go up and MACK ON HIM, clueless_, argued his Subconscious. Instincts piped up with a chorus of _This guy is going to be extremely important to you! Just do _SOME_thing, ANYTHING!_ Roxas sort of wanted to cry again from the pressure. He went with telling everything to just _shut the fuck up_, and strode purposefully over to the still-shouting Axel who had launched into a verbal assault on one of the nurses.

"_I'm_ the victim here! God, woman, don't you know your ass from your elbow? It was _me_ who got _shot_, in case you forgot you were just treating the bullet wound!"

"The police still need to speak with you," the nurse argued weakly. Axel's voice got shrill.

"Police? I didn't _do_ anything except _be there_! Morons with a capital M, all of you bureaucratic, sycophantic –"

He apparently grew fed up with arguing, or too outraged to keep it up, because he whirled around – and bumped smack into Roxas. The cracked ribs gave a shriek of protest and Roxas winced.

"Sorry, kid. Didn't see you there," Axel said grimly, turning toward the door and thoroughly ignoring Roxas. Then he turned, did a double take. His furious expression sort of crumbled like old, badly laid cement.

Their eyes met.

Roxas collapsed onto the floor.

--

Axel gasped, pain exploding behind his eyes. He closed them, quickly, but not before he saw the blonde boy crumple to the floor in front of him like a rag doll. Even as everything went dark and a numbness filled his limbs, he was filled with a strange urge to break the kid's fall, reach out to him somehow, get between him and any harm which deigned to come his way.

_I have to make it up to him…Have to do it right, this time…_ _Wait, what? I don't even know him!_

Axel wasn't sure how he could think, or why he was thinking what he was, when he was pretty damn sure he'd fainted dead away. But there they were, strange thoughts he didn't understand, and something else, a niggling sensation. He focused on that, and it became a quiet, gentle voice, almost like a hand soothing his forehead during a fever.

It was a young girl's voice, and it spoke to him like a friend:

'_Axel. Don't be afraid. You know me, so please just listen and don't try to remember; I will take care of that…'_

--

"You are certain? None of them know?" asked the girl softly. She toyed with a strand of long, silvery hair.

"No," the man answered, eyes closed but facial expression showing that he was focused intently on something, as though a screen was laid out before him and he was scrutinizing it. "And none remember. But they will begin, very soon. He has met two of the others. Once they are all together, in one place, and know of one another…" He waved a gloved hand.

"Are you certain we want to do this? I mean…we don't know whether these are the absolute last remnants. We could upset something very great, without destroying what we aim to."

"It is a risk. But is it not one which you are willing to take?"

Her gaze followed the rapid, scanning movement of his eyelids, which seemed as though he was deep in REM, and her lips quirked with thought. "I cannot say, yet."

"Then we must proceed until you can."

She heaved a sigh, her narrow shoulders sagging inward. "Very well. I will get to work."

* * *

Author's Addendum: Ooh, mysterious, no? Who are these strange, not-so-masked-or-cloaked people who live in darkness and observe our hero's every move? More pressingly, when will there be AkuRoku lovin'? Well…I know the first answer, but don't ask me about that second one just yet. All I can say is, I'm getting to it! 


	4. Revelations

Chapter Four: Revelations

* * *

'_Axel. Don't be afraid. You know me, so please just listen and don't try to remember; I will take care of that. But you have to trust me. I would not hurt you. You have to help me to protect you, to protect Roxas. You know why that is important, don't you? Why Roxas is so important?'_

_Roxas...that boy? I don't know. Who are you?_

'_Will you help me, Axel?'_

_Who _are_ you?_

'_I am...nobody. The important thing is you. I cannot do anything here without your help. You can all be free. You will remember everything, but you must be patient. Trust in Roxas; he is your way. But you must help me by keeping him safe. Can you do that, Axel?'_

_Tell me who you are first._

'_So like you.' _The voice laughed good-naturedly._ 'But I can't tell you that yet. It would mean nothing.'_

_I don't know what I'm supposed to remember, lady, but you're freaking me out. How are you in my head?_

'_I'm not. Not exactly.' _He could almost hear the smile in her voice.

_What do I do? Will you come to me again?_

'_Just take care of Roxas. You have another chance – don't let it go. I will be here when you need me. He was chosen, Axel, but now you have been chosen to protect him.'_

_Wait, don't –_

'_You're waking up, Axel. I have to go, before they find out we've spoken. But protect Roxas.'_

_Hey!_

'_Roxas, Axel. He is _everything_.'_

--

Axel woke to a pounding in his head, which he rubbed with a grimace. Next to him was the blonde boy. Roxas. They were in side-by-side hospital beds.

Roxas' eyes were still closed, his face contorted as though he fought some internal battle – or was having a very bad nightmare. Or thinking too hard. For Axel's quite biased mind, it was very difficult to refrain from making a blonde joke, something along the lines of "_any_ thinking must be too hard for him". This wasn't really the time for joking.

He'd just had some sort of transcending experience, like the voice of God. Who sounded like a little girl. Who had told him to protect this boy lying beside him, after eye contact with whom he'd fainted dead away. And he'd remember something he didn't know he knew, soon, and it would help The Voice. Who, if she/it was God, shouldn't need help. So he was batty and had split personalities? Or he'd just heard a higher power in which he didn't believe. This was all a little hard to swallow.

Instead of thinking too hard about it, which would likely confuse and/or frighten him (which would probably cause him to leap out of bed, screaming like a lunatic, and run laps around the hospital in only his blue, cotton, open-backed hospital gown – under which he was naked, and which he'd really like to avoid if at all possible), Axel settled for watching Roxas, instead.

The blonde boy's eyelashes fluttered softly, and his lips were parted slightly, air whistling through them softly as his chest rose and fell. He would have looked deep in a natural, calm sleep, if it weren't for the slightly reddened gauze bandage taped to his temple. This worried Axel slightly. The Voice had as much as told Axel that whatever he was going to remember would make this Roxas person extremely important to him, and if that was the case, he should worry if the kid was hurt, right? Or maybe he should get the hell out of here before something else earth-shattering could happen. Somehow, seeing Roxas sigh and shift slightly in his sleep-coma-thing, he got a feeling that wasn't how it would go down. It couldn't. He didn't like the feeling that he was in utterly no control over the situation, and yet charged with controlling the safety of a person he'd never met before. Who made him faint.

And have butterflies in his stomach, apparently.

With a frown, Axel brushed the sensation off. No matter what he was 'going to remember', this was a high school-aged kid, and he was on the upside of his twenties. It was _wrong_, no matter how supernatural, what he felt for this kid. Who he didn't know. He wasn't even sure if the kid was even really the Roxas they'd talked about. Deciding to try something for his own curiosity, Axel said softly,

"Hey, there, Roxas." He ran a finger cautiously up Roxas' arm, watching the fingers twitch slightly.

Then Roxas' eyes popped open. It scared the crap out of Axel, who jumped backwards – but Roxas' hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. The kid was suddenly wide-awake. In the midst of attempting to come up with an explanation for why he was stroking a complete stranger's arm, Axel threw out several possibilities: "This voice in my head told me we were close (basically), so I thought I might molest you while you slept, to put things on more familiar grounds" struck out; so did "You give me this weird feeling I've never had before. Can I touch you some more?" and "I am attracted to you and might not know why for about...oh, I don't know. No, really, I have no idea how long." Roxas spared him having to come up with something plausible by saying, "A...Axel?" in a voice that turned Axel's knees to jello and his stomach into a fiery pit.

"Um...yeah, that's my name, and, uh, don't you forget it!" Axel tried to give a suave peace sign, but his hands were shaking too badly. Roxas frowned at him.

"Do you...know me?"

"You're Roxas, right?"

"Yeah."

"That's all I've got, kid, sorry. Did you –" He stopped reasonably short of asking if someone else had heard 'the voice in my head'. That would definitely be a way to scare the kid off and with him any hopes of offering protection. "Did you sleep well?" he covered.

Honestly, what kind of protection could a high school kid need? Especially from something in which a voice-out-of-the-abyss would get involved? Maybe this was just a _little_ bigger than Axel. Or Roxas. Or both of them and whatever Axel was supposed to remember. Come to think of it, wouldn't Roxas remember it, too, if it was about both of them?

"Hey, Roxas...how did you know my name?"

Roxas frowned, kicking his legs. "Don't we..." He paused, looked Axel straight in the eyes (minus the knock-out inducing migraine this time! _Score_!), took a deep breath, and took a chance. "You heard her, too, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Axel said softly.

"She said...she missed me. How could somebody in my head miss me?"

"She said a lot of things," Axel breathed, running a hand through his spiky hair (Roxas was surprised he didn't cut himself or lose a finger or something). "Like, things...About you...and me." He leveled Roxas with a hard stare.

"What are we supposed to remember?" Roxas asked softly, glancing down at his hands.

On a whim, something he didn't know why he did, Axel reached out and placed his hand over Roxas', stroking a thumb over the back of the kid's knuckles. _You're just comforting somebody who's a little freaked out,_ he rationalized with himself. Right. That was all. "We'll know it when it gets here, right? So don't sweat it."

Roxas glanced up at him, resisting the logical urge to pull away, giving in to his instincts. The Voice had said Axel was a safe thing; the Voice had sounded like home. So Axel was safe, and Roxas wanted _something _to be. Everything seemed to be getting tugged out from under his feet. But maybe Axel was solid ground. "Yeah. Okay."

--

Luxord twisted his hands together. "And you're _sure_ it wasn't caused by the accident?"

"Yes," Doctor Gordon snapped, clicking her nails against the desk. "And that wouldn't have an effect on _both_ of them, would it? There is no medical explanation. You're free of all blame."

"It's not that," began Luxord quietly. The truth was, the kid stirred a fondness in him deeper than a simple feeling, something he couldn't explain. It almost felt like they'd known each other forever instead of an enmity-filled afternoon. Granted, he was sure Roxas wouldn't _want_ to know him any longer after this; their track record wasn't good – he'd run the kid over, locked him in a car, and given him a dizzy spell which later caused him and another boy to collapse. Nope, no likely forthcoming friendship there.

So it was a surprise when Roxas came up behind him, a small smile on his face. It was the first Luxord had seen him wear; it was a good look. The kid's heart-shaped face was made for smiling. "Hey...thanks for the ride and everything. You don't have to take me back to school, but, ah...thanks, anyway."

"Sure. I only ran you over, after all."

The man standing behind Roxas – a tall, skinny redhead with makeup and a piercing – grinned. Roxas didn't. "Yeah. Don't remind me."

"Here, my number," Luxord offered, holding out a slip of paper. "In case your parents need to discuss the accident with me."

"Thanks," said Roxas, tucking it into a pants pocket. _That's code for 'You're an asshole, why would _anyone_ call _you_? In fact, why do you even have a phone number?'_ Luxord told himself gloomily. It was written all over the kid's face.

"Let's go, Roxy," prompted Axel from behind them. Roxas visibly flinched at the nickname.

"Right."

They walked away together, and Luxord sighed. Something about that kid...it was going to be hard to sleep until he figured it out. He had a feeling a lot of people probably felt that way. The kid was going to grow up to break hearts.

--

"'Roxy'?" fumed Roxas, jerking Axel down to eye level. The redhead smirked, folding his hands behind his head and leaning down farther.

"Yeah. I've probably called you that for _ages_ and you just don't remember," he laughed.

"Sure," growled Roxas. He could see how this was going to get real awkward, real fast. "You're going to use that a lot, aren't you?"

"Oh, yeah," Axel teased back. If they made a joke of it, it wasn't as intimidating, for one thing. "'I used to call you at three AM all the time, don't you remember?' and 'Well, sure, you _always_ let me crash at your place' and 'Yeah, we...'" He trailed off; Roxas was blushing and staring down at his shoes. "Something wrong?"

"No, just...I don't think it's a good idea if you come over to my house."

Axel rolled his eyes. "I was _joking_, hello." Subconscious swooned at someone else who could make Roxas feel like as much of an idiot as it could. Instinct swooned, period. "But seriously, what's the problem?"

"Starts with a 'p'."

"...Penis? It's not like I'm going to threaten you with it or anything; we've both got one, you know."

_Yeah, that's the _problem_, stupid,_ Roxas' Brain interjected. _That's not normal._ It was immediately and soundly beaten around the head with an overweight tabby cat by Subconscious, which was backed up by Instincts. Brain decided to keep its opinions to itself. Roxas, however, didn't. "Parents."

"Ah, right."

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Silly boy. Don't you know never to ask a lady that?" Axel wiggled his butt in a way he likely thought classified as 'cutely', sticking out his tongue. Roxas could see another stud glitter there. Was this guy pierced _everywhere_? Yikes. _Why don't you ask...or just find out for yourself?_ suggested Subconscious lewdly. Roxas ignored it. They continued across the parking lot until they reached Axel's ride.

Upon seeing it, Roxas couldn't have cared less whether Axel was still teething or a hundred-and-two-year-old koala poacher from Brazil with a taste in twelve-year-old boys and strippers, or a combination of both (in that case Roxas would be out of luck, being neither); he would have asked to marry him right then and there. The 'ride' was a sleek, black motorcycle with lovingly applied details depicting a gold-and-crimson phoenix bursting into flame along the body of the bike. Silver tailpipes jutted proudly out the back; the seat was leather and looked _very_ cushy, and ended in a studded travel case (also leather).

"Oh, my God. I think I'm in _love_."

Axel laughed. Roxas sort of fawned on Axel, eyes still glued to the bike; it felt more like he was clawing the arm he'd attached himself to into shreds. Luckily, that was the good arm (well, no longer).

Roxas stared at the bike, moon-eyed.

"So," Axel asked, grinning catlike, taking two helmets from the travel case. "Want to take her for a spin?"

"Oh, do I ever..."


	5. A Small Delay

Chapter Five: A Small Delay

Author's Notes: You might have noticed I abandoned the one-word chapter naming system. It might come back, it might not. Also, formatting on for some reason does not allow me to use the divider bar anymore. It makes me sad, but there's no helping it. I'll be using multiple dashes for now. Also! I'm looking ofr a beta, since I'm well-aware my typing sucks liek woah. If you have an interest, e-mail me at "miiko (underscore) ashida (at) yahoo . com" (remove the spaces). Thanks for reading, everyone, and I hope you continue to be entertained! (I'm so ashamed at how long it's been since an update, but the original chapter I had planned in this one's place got eaten when my computer died.)

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"This is your place?" Roxas asked in awe, staring up at the colossal two-story, river rock-sided house where Axel had driven them to. No _way_ a biker punk like Axel could afford a place like this on his own! Unless appearances really were deceiving, and he was secretly a super-rich heir to some big hotel family (thank God he wasn't a bimbo, at least) who rebelled in hopes of finding some sense of self away from his parents' luxurious lifestyle, and just happened to also enjoy the benefits of their money. Either that, or he was the weekend boytoy of some big, well-to-do lawyer, who was probably old, grey and portly and – ew. Roxas derailed _that_ train of thought in a hurry. Either way, he didn't like the indication this house presented, because Brain pointed out yet a third possibility too…well…_normal_ for either Roxas or his Subconscious to conceive of, with their boundless imaginations. _What if he's breaking and entering somebody's house? He _ is_ in a gang, you know. _

All too aware of that minor detail, Roxas frowned at Brain. _Maybe it really is his house. You never know._

_You seem a little skeptical of that, yourself, _ Brain reminded him with what would have been raised eyebrows on a physical manifestation. Roxas groaned inwardly and kicked it. He really, really disliked the idea that Axel was a criminal. Being in a gang? Well, that was okay, as long as they didn't hold up little old ladies (though Axel sort of seemed like the type of robber who'd end up getting pounded twenty feet into the dust with a handbag, like in the cartoons), or go around cat-calling at young women and boys (now _that_, the last part, Roxas could envision Axel doing, but he'd probably end up with a bunch of hormonal teenagers attached to every appendage for his troubles). If it was a _motorcycle_ gang, that was even kind of cool (_Especially since it means he wears leather all the time,_ added Subconscious unnecessarily, licking its proverbial lips), since Roxas loved anything with two wheels and a motor. However, that was pretty harmless stuff – mostly for show. But breaking into someone's house was really, truly bad. It was the sort of thing that went on your permanent record, even if you were just in the vicinity at the time, like a drinking party or vandalism or being the lookout while your best friend decided he wanted the thrill of screwing his girlfriend in the erstwhile-unoccupied teachers' lounge (no, wait, Roxas had 'been in study hall, working on algebra' for that last one, because Hayner didn't want to admit he'd been nervous enough to want a lookout) – things that got on your transcript, things that got the police involved, the school, or worse – your _mom_.

Roxas shuddered a little, simultaneous with Brain, Subconscious, and Instincts, at the thought of his mother discovering he'd done any of those things (only the last of which he actually had), especially in addition to breaking into the house of some people he didn't know to discuss the possibility of a 'history' (and his mom would catch on pretty quickly to what kind of 'history' he meant, too) that he couldn't remember with some dyed, pierced, leather-bound, biker-gang-belonging twentysomething who'd recently been in a shootout.

Heads would roll enough as it was if she got wind he'd skipped school. Particularly if that skipping was to allow the other offences. Roxas winced; he _really_ hadn't thought this through at all, and now he was sort of regretting getting on the bike (cool as it was) with Axel (hot, leather-clad, possibly serendipitous, and awesome as he was). Nonetheless, as though his feet weren't really his own, when Axel unlocked the door (ah! A key! So it really _was_ his house! Good! …well, Roxas wasn't positive it was a good thing, but at least it was unincriminating for other parties involved) and gave Roxas a tiny wink, he felt himself moving forward, into a stranger's house. Into a stranger's life. And somehow, he felt that the stranger wasn't Axel – it was himself.

It was almost as if ever since he'd met that Luxord guy earlier, something, or maybe several somethings, had been building and beginning to spiral out of his control.

--

He glanced at his clipboard, frowning at the only name without a red check mark next to it._ Wanless,_ _Roxas._ Being absent on the first day was a black mark on Marluxia's record for the rest of the year, unless you had a suitable excuse. Maybe the kid did. Waving a hand absently, he called out "Olette!" toward the field churning with soccer-playing PE students. A girl with long-ish, curly brown hair popped out of the crowd, jogging over to him. She gave him a friendly smile and a hug, even though she'd already done so at the beginning of class.

"Yeah, Coach?"

"You know this Roxas character?"

"Yeah! We hang out all the time." She giggled. Marluxia frowned. He didn't like girls from his team – even _ex_-players – having romantic entanglements. To most people it seemed that he took an obsessively hard line on the subject, but that sort of thing could be extremely damaging to performance in the game. Olette was a serious girl, one of his best, and she'd never seemed like the type, but her eyes lit up when he mentioned Roxas. Shaking off the annoyance prickling him as he thought of her and this boy, off in some corner (right before an important game, even!) giggling and making out, Marluxia asked,

"Does he ever skip school?"

She laughed, doubled over and put her hands on her knees. "Skip? Roxas? Hehe. His mother would skin him alive and boil him for supper. No, Roxas wouldn't skip." Then her face took on a different expression. "Is he supposed to be in this class?"

"Yes. And yet he is not here."

"Oh, maybe he's sick! He's kind of frail." She tapped her lip thoughtfully with one finger, a distant look in her eyes.

"Well, you can go back to the exercise. Undoubtedly you've gotten out of shape since last season."

She flinched. They didn't talk about 'last season'; it wasn't either of their finest hours. Olette still felt she might have done the wrong thing, but Marluxia just pretended it had never happened. For that, she was grateful: Coach was one of her favorite people in the world, even more than her boyfriend (because you can't _count_ on a boyfriend, but Coach was always there), and she thought she might just die if he didn't like her anymore.

Thankfully, they were still close enough for a little teasing, which he showed by tapping her on the head with his clipboard. "Go on, get out of here. I didn't mean that."

"Really? You sure my legs aren't fat?" She twisted, as though trying to see imaginary cellulite on the backs of her thighs.

"I don't care to look at your legs if they aren't injured, Olette," he said sternly, tapping her again. She grinned and jogged back toward the field, waving. He sighed. Rubbed his temples. Sighed again. Olette was a wonderful girl, incredibly athletic, kind and smart and pretty. But she'd hurt him fairly badly, and he suspected he might have hurt her, without realizing it. He certainly hadn't meant to.

It was going to be much harder than he'd thought, working in proximity to her again – this time as her teacher.

--

"We can talk in a bit," Axel said to Roxas once they had gotten to the house's living room (it was huge! Roxas felt a little self-conscious), and abruptly turned, heading toward the stairs. "I'm going to get a shower."

"Hey! This is important! Can't it wait?"

"Nope. Sorry." Axel grinned flippantly back at him, then darted up the stairs. Roxas glared after the retreating head of red hair, which suddenly turned around and bounded back toward him. Axel paused at the foot of the stairs, then made up whatever question was in his mind and shot forward. His arms closed around Roxas' shoulders, and they were suddenly cheek-to-cheek. Roxas stiffened, breathing in that leather smell mixed with something else – cologne or shampoo or something. It smelled sort of good. Axel squeezed him once, then let go, still grinning like a madman.

Roxas feigned offence. "What was _that_ about?"

"I dunno. I just got this feeling that I should do it, is all." And with that he flashed back up the stairs.

_What a weirdo,_ Roxas thought. _What a sweet guy,_ amended Instincts. _What a hot ass!_ added Subconscious dreamily, watching Axel's backside disappear around the divider at the top of the stairs. For some reason, this made Roxas incredibly grumpy. He really didn't feel like sharing Axel with the other parts of his mind, even if they were basically himself. _Wait, who said anything about 'sharing'? He isn't yours to begin with! You don't even _ know_ him!_ objected Brain, surfacing from its Axel-hug-induced coma.

_He just feels…right. What do you all know, anyway?_ replied Roxas sullenly.

_What do _ you_ know about him?_ parried Subconscious archly.

And Roxas realized with a sort of sinking feeling that the answer to that question was a resounding _not much_.


End file.
